27.4.12

It's a noisy thing. It's screaming
and slamming and rage rage rage,
his chair scraping across the floor
as he's sent away to solitude,
the jangle-whoosh-whisper of a belt
being whipped out of pant loops
(a threat that looms without striking),
his sister's wails when he snaps.

This is not how I'll live,
not the childhood I'll give them.
So I listen to my heart,
give him the space and silence
to defuse, to regroup, to relax.

I give him hours of silence
that are loud with quiet sounds:
His pencil against paper, the sharp
intake of breath when he spies
a grosbeak or a blue jay
at the bird feeder, the excitement
of an afternoon that's only his.

But the silence is loaded with
worry, too. I listen to it,
note its shape, memorize its cadence.
I pray the balance can last.

But this is just our start:
listening to and honoring what's broken,
and giving each other (and ourselves)
the space and time to heal.

Kelly, your writing here is so deep and so electric. I can feel the anxiety, hear that silence. In that silence of listening, I'm sure you will hear Whispers guiding you. So much strength to you, loving mama. I know you're doing a good job simply because you care and act on it.

This imbalance/balance trade off, how hard it has to be to navigate. The worry that won't leave, the need for silence, stillness, regrouping. I don't live it, but I understand it more based on these words alone.

This is gorgeous, Kelly. So many lines you write are relatable, though I know nothing about ADHD.

this: "...leaves me lurching in the dark for compassion, restraint" -- puts me in touch with all those feelings I feel when I allow myself to see what's wrong with the world today. Thank you for providing me with a release. xx

Learning independence, learning to manage yourself: I think it's so, so hard. But it gets better! (Right?) They almost always turn out to be functional adults. (Right?) Everything will be fine, in time. (Right?!) (These things I believe... or hope...) ;)